Redimo Demerio
by Gerontius.T
Summary: Just when Nerdanel has regained some semblance of control over her life, unwittingly, the Valar turn it upside down all over again But not even the Valar are omniscient, and they are also susceptible to errors...CHAPTER 5 UP!
1. In Greyness of Stagnancy

Redemption

Disclaimer- Nothing belongs to me. Everything you recognize is Tolkien's work.

Chapter 1-False Solace

The house was oddly empty without her sons.

It seemed to be bitterly against her hope of forgetting, as was everything else.

Indis had fled in grey hopelessness to her only remaining Vanyarin kin. They had welcomed her with garlands of gay flowers, wreaths of happiness and joy.

But Indis had felt only grief.

Her relationship with Finwe had distanced her from her Vanyarin kin, and suddenly in completely unexpected times of the day, she would suddenly blurt out some snatch of a song of grief and death.

Her kin were only mildly disturbed, and thought nothing of it. They loved the Valar and refused to tolerate any evil tidings. But Indis was forever touched by the dark allure of the Noldor and could not find solace in dancing among the ever green trees on the slopes of Taniquetil any longer.

Not so was Nerdanel. For it seemed her life was already filled with greyness and insipidity. Her heart was bitter against the angry mutterings of all the people in her city. But she was not wholly without friends.

Strangely enough, the fair one, Melian seemed to find satisfaction in her company.

And there was no accusatory look there, only compassion and understanding. And so did Nerdanel bask in the brief days of companionship, where the bliss of cool compassion washed over her like soothing balm, helping her to forget the fire of the past.

But now, it seemed to Nerdanel that even Melian had deserted her, for she had no friends.

Not any more.

Occasionally she would hear hints and sly whispers behind her back, as though nobody was left to know how the name of the ruling house of Finwe was so tarnished by its Eldest son.

The Spirit of Fire, they had called him. Now Nerdanel only remembered their days together as a blur. Unusual for elves, perhaps, but they were fraught with malice, greed, hatred, flaming love, passionate jealousy, and the unforgivable fire.

It was a strange thing, but when Nerdanel ever found it in her to look back on her past, and bitterly rue everything in it, except perhaps her brief childhood selling her father's wares in Alqualonde, she could see only an overwhelming flame, searching and probing, into the deepest recesses of her Spirit.

She was tainted. By his flame, but she drew again to it, as a moth drawn to light. And again she had been burnt.

Nerdanel the Wise, they had called her. But nothing in the very core of the wisdom that she was famed for ever prompted her to refuse to marry him.

And that her marriage would bring about utter ruin and chaos for elves.

Her wisdom had failed its test, and now the whole world had paid the price.

Oft had Olorin come to her, for he knew what to say and when to say it.

Deeply had she been scarred, and long would those wounds remain open. But she could bear it.

She was not yet bent by the dark days of solitude and wishful longing of their days courtship. And she was strong.

Olorin had helped her through the darkest of days, when no one else dared to approach the 'cursed' house of Finwe and its women.

With gentle words of wisdom and kindness had he prompted her to take control once more, of her fate. But perhaps he had helped her more to take charge of her own very existence, that had been ruthlessly overrun by Him.

Bitterly did she rue the day that she first beheld him, but she would not repent her marriage.

Nerdanel was too strong of will to say that which was a lie. And to say that she regretted loving with her whole, passionate soul, the greatest of her race, that would be the greatest lie of all. Even Nienna would not forgive her.

And now, she was called to a council. Perhaps she should have felt flattered, at being summoned for one of the Great Councils, of which the Valar themselves were a part.

But she could not make herself love the beings who, because of their insufferable pride and desire for domination of sentient beings, had left her husband, and all her sons, and they whom she loved most, to die at the hands of their rebelling kin.

Did they not permit the Kinslaying that caused the Curse of Mandos to be leveled on all the Noldor who dared to rebel against them?

And the Sack of Doriath, which caused her dear sister by love Melian to weep so bitterly at the very mention of it, she who seemed to be of iron will.

And the Fall of Gondolin, the great city of Turgon, her own nephew, who had been slain ruthlessly himself by Morgoth's foul creatures.

And only when things seemed so terribly bleak, even to the 'great' powers, so bleak that it seemd they would not be able to master more than very few thralls, did they—oh! But not they!

They had not condescended to come to the aid of their 'slaves'. Why would they? Being so well cushioned on their thrones of heavenly safety, why, in Eru's name would they safeguard the lives of the beings that they were sworn to protect?

Why indeed.

For His death, for the death of each and every one of her sons, through whose blood flowed the strength of her husband, tempered by her supposed wisdom and foresight, for the most part, Finwe her father, and in many ways far closer in thought than anyone else, Fingolfin the Valiant, who had entertained her even when in her most tiresome moods, when she had fought with Him. For all these and so many more she blamed the Gods, who once had claimed Aman to be a haven of security and bliss. That also it was, when one could not look past the almost forceful abduction that they had carried out.

And Indisshe would_could_ never forget when Indis had heard of her husband's death.

Like a ghostly wraith, a haunting image that never spoke. She gazed emptily for days at the throne on which Finwe sat, and held court.

But Indis' frail form belied her strong spirit. For many days later, after it seemed as though the whole world was going to crumble, Indis saw fit to return to her golden haired kin.

The wisdom. resilience and grace that she seen in Indis had prompted a lasting love between them, but it had not flowered past the Rebellion, and Nerdanel was perversely glad for it.

Perhaps a strange part of her that thought that it was disrespectful to love Indis when Feanor himself had despised her so, had prevented her from fostering friendship.

Certainly He had not been overly courteous to his own foster mother. And she had let herself be swept away by his conviction and strength.

Another mistake by Nerdanel the Wise.

But what went on in the Arda Sahta she knew not.

And did not care to know.

It brought back too many memories of a powerful flame that had choked her with its very heat, it seemed to engulf her soul with its need for domination and absorbed her essence.

She was never the same.

And she was wronged. Mahtan had often told her that marrying him could lead to difficulties.

But then she was young, rash, and madly in love.

But even in her youth, she had been blessed with some measure of wisdom.

And she had ignored it.

And was ignoring it once again as she prepared to journey to the Ring of Doom.

Olorin had not said it, but he was pleased with her choice.

And Melian was overjoyed. Their long days together as companions in grief had blossomed into a strong friendship. But it had been many days since they had seen each other, and a reunion was in order. She had been vexingly busy since the rehousing of her husband, but still grudgingly did Elwe spare his wife's time in talking to the half deranged wife of Feanor.


	2. Of Realizations and Relationships

Faintly did the wind brush against the trees as the strange hooded figure that was Nerdanel crossed the courtyard unheeding of the Vanyarin poets that stared after her undaunted approach to the castle. Strange though the appearance of a stranger among them was, stranger still was someone who did not marvel at their delicately moulded lyrics and their marvelous hair and beauty.

Finally she found herself at the bottom of a rather winding and complicatedly arranged staircase that was by no means Noldorin, and she was met by the High King Ingwe himself.

"Istarni Mahtaniel," he said in way of greeting "Welcome to our realm, perhaps you would deign to eat first as your journey must surely have worn you out." It was a statement, not a question, and Nerdanel saw no need to argue with the High King of all Elves in her present state of befuddlement.

* * *

Author's Note: In a bad mix up concerning the second chappie, I replaced the chappies wrongly and wrote this hasty sketch which I will expand and gradually complete. I'm really sorry, but happily enough, only one para left for the fifth chappie! 


	3. The fake Council of the Valar

**Redimo Demerio**

Disclaimer-Everything belongs to Tolkien and estate, nothing belongs to me except for the odd original character.

Chapter 3- The Council of the Valar

Her hand was stretched towards the firelight, oddly still, while the conflicting emotions that had defeated her long ago played on her face, cruelly.

As though they were her masters.

But…just because she allowed herself to feel didn't mean that she was a _slave _to them…was she?

Ingwe sat at the opposite her, grave, as though carved beautifully, and silent as the deepest reaches of twilight.

His eyes were unusually grave, and they glittered oddly in the light of the fire.

They were eating, unusually late at night for any meal, but, then again, it had been an unusual day.

"I hope my people were not sadly lacking in hospitality?" he asked her with a glimmer of amusement while sipping his sherry.

Nerdanel twirled her silver fork meditatively.

"Far from it." She answered quietly.

"I must thank you." She said suddenly and impulsively. "for taking me in on so short notice."

"It was nothing." Ingwe insisted, drawing closer to the fire.

The night was cold, and a blizzard raged contemptuously outside, as though mocking her and proving the might of the Valar once more.

Was that not done once already, and was she not uncowed?

Strangely persistent they had been, in intimidating her with their might, as though proving to her how foolish she had been to ever doubt them.

She had not been moved.

Far too much experience of heart-wrenching loss, in body and spirit had taught her to bow to no one.

The incompetence of the Valar was shown clearly in the Great Wars, and she was sure that nothing had changed.

Nor would it.

The fire recoiled from her—instinctively shying away from one so tainted, she thought absurdly.

It danced and danced, convulsing and crackling, licking and spitting, sometimes the heat was burdensomely heavy and sometimes oppressively light.

They were seated in Ingwe's own quarters.

Magnificently proportioned, with high, flaming torches, and lovingly sewn tapestries adorned the wooden walls proudly, murmuring and shifting with the turn of the breeze.

The windows were thrown open to the mercies of the unforgiving heavens, the snow instinctively stayed away from the palace of Ingwe and its annexe, perhaps by the command of the masters of these Vanyar.

_But, _she though cynically _are the Valar not kind to their willing thralls? _

It was wrong to assume that the Vanyar were thralls. When you saw these free people, grand and somehow childishly sheltered, with cascading hair and god-like appearance, that they were thralls was the last thought that occurred to your mind.

But, Nerdanel had taught herself to look past the smoke, past the caprice, past the rich façade of gaiety and laughter.

They were discontent, these fair people, though they would not admit it.

But, perhaps, this was the wrong time to embroil Ingwe's people in affairs they did not understand.

Such children they were, joyous, magnificently fair and startlingly powerful, quick in gaiety, terrible in wrath.

But for all that, they were still children.

And, Besides, she respected Inwe, and saw in him an equal—a peer, if you will. For he did not understand, nor did he pretend to, for he could not comprehend her.

But he treated her like everyone else, like she was worthy of his interest.

And, perhaps, though she did not consider it, Ingwe was also glad she did not try to stir up bloody rebellion.

That would be tragic indeed, would it not?

There were few hours left for the dreaded Council, and she had employed Indis' assistance to help her dress.

It was remarkable, she thought, how one could get along so well with someone who had held you in disgust and pity now that the walls between them had been summarily torn down.

Though she saw no reason to make herself special for a sordid meeting with the Valar, she knew that it would be utter disrespect to show up to their meeting, looking like a horrible dowd. Vain was not something Nerdanel usually was, but today she had been allowed the luxury of painting herself up, and furnishing herself with fripperies that satisfied even Indis.

Her hair was tied in a manner that was, Indis had informed her, the latest fashion with her people, and it amounted her no small sense of satisfaction when she turned the heads of the snooty Vanyarin lords who had looked upon her as a shark may look upon an unworthy minnow, instead looked at her as a wolf might look at its unwary prey.

And the compliments she had received from some people would have made her ears turn red had she been younger.

Reluctantly, her interest had begun to build and her thoughts concerning the Council had been…varied to say the least. Vague impressions of utter domination and unquestioned power with a blue blurred shape whizzed past her head as quickly as it came, and she had no more far fetched theories since.

Merely five wretched hours had passed since dinner and she had eaten precious little during that time, far too engaged in her thoughts.

Ingwe had noticed this and had kindly supplied her with nourishment in his own quarters.

"Will you take me to where the Council will take place?" Nerdanel asked a trifle nervously. She did not care if what she said was forward, for, Eru knew, he was too old for it to really matter, but the prospect of meeting the Valar themselves had disquieted even her.

Ingwe calmly sipped his sherry, which he had been nursing for some time.

" Certainly, Lady Nertanie, if you do not feel up to going yourself." His tone was slightly mocking, as though daring her to contradict his assumption of her weakness and dare to defy the High King.

Out loud she said " I feel up to it, certainly my lord King. But certainly the presence of the High King would boost my morale." Having said this, she leaned back on her chair, satisfied that her words would have no more dangerous implications.

He too leaned back, and surveyed her seriously.

After a few minutes that tried her patience sorely, Ingwe finally laid down his half empty glass and stared at her measuringly.

" It is time." He said offering her his arm.

Accepting it, she smoothed her skirts and, drawing breath, trod steps with him.

Later on, she wasn't quite sure what happened that night.

Usually, you would expect nights of such importance to be forever etched in her mind, but this wasn't the case.

Hours, days, later she flew into her quarters where Indis was waiting anxiously for her.

"Curufinwe!" she sobbed angrily into her sheets.

"Curufinwe?" Indis asked wonderingly.

"Curufinwe." Nerdanel snapped angrily. "He will be here again, to torment my life. But it will not be so! I will master him, now! He will be as a lamb with his shepherd!"

Indis gasped. Her body trembled violently. It was perhaps tactless of Nerdanel to break the news to her abruptly, but Nerdanel was, as she rarely was if she thought of anyone, being selfish.

Indis was conscious of searing hate rushing through her like barely awakened volcano.

Choking on a sob, she rushed out of the room.

'Indis!" Nerdanel called helplessly.

Would she be denied happiness still, as it dangled elusively in front of her, Curufinwe delaying her joy?

No, she told herself angrily, passionately.

_Yes, _said her wisdom quietly, unheard.

Hey again. I know this chapter is very very very sloppily handled, but I was in a hurry and I wanted to get things moving.

About the Council of the Valar, I'll probably be posting it as a separate story. Look for it tomorrow or in two days. I'm not fond of writing long chapters, you can see

Don't worry, I'm aware that the Council was probably going to be the most anticipated part of this fic but I just didn't have time to write it all up.

And I'm also aware that the Council is going to be one of the most important parts of this fic, but hey!

I'll probably be editing this chap too, sometime soon.

Nessa Ar-Feiniel- I'd thought that out before I started writing this, actually. Finwe (in my fandom) is still living in Mandos because he wanted to stay with Miriel Serinde, his true love. Selfish, I agree but you can hardly expect him to adopt a hroa again after what happened to him by Morgoth and mix together the bonus of being with your wife whom you had mourned the death for so many years...well, it wasn't much of a choice I don't think.


	4. The Council of the ValarPart 1

Chap 5: The Council of the Valar.-Part 1

It was with a sense of expectancy that Nerdanel entered the room that Ingwe led her to and, with a bow and a curt farewell, left.

It was a room like no other, for it seemed to be one with the clouds, and she felt lighter and airier, and unwary all at once. But this did not dull her senses, rather, it made her feel keen and cunning, as though she were really mistress of herself when she was so very far from it.

Now, this room that Nerdanel found herself in was the most secret hall of Judgment that any elf had even set foot in. It was this same room that Curunir was adjudged to be corrupted and malicious, sentenced to damnation in the Silent halls forever untilb his repentance. But not all this room's history was sorrowful, here too was Olorin adbjudged to be worthy of the position of Head of Order, the order of the Istari in Middle Eabrth.

Though Nerdanel only found out much later, this was also a judgment. One of a most solemn kind, the first judgment in which the Valar and all their subjects had to take part in since the death of Miriel Sirinde. She was to be her husband's representative, a position too important to be rejected by her, therefore, they gave her no choice.

Uncertainly, she sat on the only chair in the room, for though it was of magnificent proportions, it was bereft of almost any furniture, and besides the chair, there was only a stern looking panel with iron benches behind it, as would be in a criminal trial.

Nerdanel shivered unconsciously and waited.

For hours it seemed that nothing was going to happen, and she was just going to make a dignified exit when she suddenly became conscious of a breeze, which was odd because there weren't any windows in the room.

But it wasn't breeze, she realized excitedly, they were _spirits_, and though they were invisible, they seemed to rustle quietly and gently, and two of them whispered soothing words over her flaming fear and rest.

_Melian and Olorin._

So, these were the Maiar, the wonderful spirits, beautiful and glorious to behold, terrible in their wrath and mighty in their laughter. _And most powerful in their sorrow._

There were maybe two dozens of them, and some wore their physical forms with ease while some wore hoods over their faces. Most appeared to her invisible, but they rushed around her like waves in the sea, and they comforted her.

_Mightier than these were the Valar._

Their robes rustled as they entered, or rather, appeared, for there was no clear way for them to enter with the door closed.

First came three women, one with hair long and rich brown, as the earth in its fertility. Her dress was short and a deer trotted innocently at her side. Some spirits bowed before her, Nessa, they called her.

Next came Vana. Nerdanel had heard much of her from Melian and knew enough to recognize her. Her hair was long and golden, and distantly Nerdanel could hear the singing of birds, heartfelt and beautiful, but far away.

Behind her was Este, and of her too Nerdanel learned much of. Her face was white and pale, but she was not sickly, and her eyes spoke of refreshment and arousement, as from a great sleep. Her gown was long and silver, enchanting, and would have put Nerdanel in a state of dreamy daze were it not for the arrival of Nienna.

Nienna was a tall figure, in grey, and her robes of velvet. Her skin was pale, as that of death, but she was not ominous, in fact, Nerdanel admired her. Her face was not glistening with tears, as Nerdanel had been taught to expect, but it was a silent weeping that is borne of deep and boundless thought and selfless sorrow.

She spoke not but her long white arms were hidden by her grey robes, she stood tall and proud and her movements were graceful and lither. Her face was covered by a hood, and it was only her hair of ebony, darker than twilight and untroubled by mists than Nerdanel caught a glimpse of as she stood along with the others.

Varda came on Manwe's arm, yet their faces were not seen as they were cloaked by black and blue respectively. But Manwe looked once directly at her and it seemed that all the power in Arda could not hold the noble and holy spirit that was in him. Varda she saw not at all, but her figure was taller than anyone she had yet seen, and her lines were graceful.

Vaire came on Mandos' arm next, her fingers Nerdanel noticed especially, long, thin and nimble, even then they had been fidgeting with the folds of her robes.b

Aule came next, with Yavanna on his arm. They both were hooded and well cloaked but Aule, strangely enough, held a hammer in his hand and the air about was singed as though he had just come from the all too familiar forge.

Orome came, with his famed horn at his side, in tunic if green and brown. He was not hooded and his eyes were dark, as though accustomed to anger.

Tulkas then arrived, with golden beard and merry face, and laughter was in his eyes and no malice or hate.

It was almost impossible for Nerdanel to not notice Ulmo's arrival as the air immediately smelt of sea breeze and sea spray, the foam of the proud crested waves and the immeasurable depths of the deepest seas of the world.

After all the Valar were lined up like mightily carved statues, made by no earthly hand, stood at the walls of the room, dark and rather gloomy in there cloaks and robes, it was apparent that the meeting should start.

All except Mandos.

It seemed that the Doomsmen of the Valar had settled himself on the high bench that stood above the panels with the Maiar spirits.

Nerdanel was suddenly very conscious of her position at the centre of the large room, being stared at by every single divine spirit in the room.

This was ridiculous of course, but it helped to ease her nerves to think that she was being purposely irreverent by not displaying any signs of fear or awe.

But, she mused, the time when anyone really loved and revered the Valar was Ages past. Now, they were fearfully spoken of as objects of great power and strength, capable of great and terrible things. Few now existed that dared to describe the Valar personally.

Her brief reverie was broken by a loud thudding that enveloped the expanse of the room with its sound.

" The trial of Feanaro Curufinwe Finwion, shall commence."

I've decided to post in two chapters, it turned out to be too long to post all at once.

My description of the physical features of the Valar was scrapped finally because I wasn't brave enough to attempt anything like that.

I left the description of Nienna mainly because I feel that she is such an interesting character, and I think she is a whole lot more than a weepy woman.

I have another story up, Withered Leaves and The Weary Road (which is its prequel), go check them out.


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